Seven
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: A YuYu HakushoRurouni Kenshin crossover taking place in the future.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin belong to Shonen Jump, not me.

-

-

-

The three teenagers watched with interest as the girl with the long blue ponytail careened into the ramen shop, a toddler with a big blue pacifier in his mouth under her arm.

"Yukimura-san is certainly busy with the ramen shop today," the boy with the big headphones said.

"She sure has some weird customers," the girl said with a click of her pearls. "What number is that now?"

Their midget friend slurped his ramen noodles. "Let's see," he said, "There was the redhead who looked like a girl, the ugly guy with the poofy orange hair, the really short guy with the mean glare, and the girl with the cigarette. Did I leave anyone out?"

The girl slapped him upside the head. "Shut up, Manta. I didn't need you to give me a full biography," she said. "Let's go inside and see what's going on."

"You're the evil genius, Anna, not me," the headphones boy shrugged. Anna grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the ramen shop.

-----

"So what's all this about, Koenma?" Yusuke asked. "I'm sure it's something important, or you wouldn't have dragged your royal butt out here."

"It's so important he hasn't even told me!" Botan wailed. "You're so mean, Koenma! Don't make me get out my baseball bat!"

Koenma gulped. "Now, calm down, Botan," he said. "This is very important. If this isn't remedied, history could be changed."

Shizuru lifted an eyebrow. "History could be changed?" she repeated. Hiei snorted.

"Seven people have disappeared from Japanese history," Koenma began. "One of these people was instrumental in the founding of the Meiji era. If we don't get the Battousai back to 1878, history as we know it will vanish."

"Battousai- the manslayer," Kurama mused.

Koenma whirled around. "And you, Kurama- this could change you too. Your mother is a descendent of Himura Kenshin!" Kurama became very pale.

"So what do we do, Koenma?" Keiko asked.

"Each of you will be assigned to a person. We have to convince them to return to their own era."

Yusuke cracked his knuckles. "So where do we find these bakas?" he asked.

Koenma sweat dropped. "Eh…the year 2078..."

-

-

-

For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently at work on an original fantasy novel. If you are interested and would like to learn more, please send me a private message (PM) via this website.


	2. Listen, My Angel

Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin belong to Shonen Jump, not me.

-

-

-

The sharp click, click, click of the woman's high heels was the only sound in the building. She tapped her superior on the shoulder. "It's the children, sir," she whispered.

The immense man raised his bulk out of his chair to survey the little refugees. Seven of them, all orphans after the intense terrorist bombings in Tokyo.

The seven children ranged in age from thirteen to just over a year. They were dressed in ragged clothes, covered in soot and dirt, their eyes red from smoke and from weeping. The two youngest children were mercifully asleep, cradled in the arms of the older children.

The man turned to the social worker. "Find families who will take them in," he said. "Get them into a stable situation as quickly as you can." He turned one of the boys, a skinny mite with large violet eyes and a bloody bandage on his left cheek. "You, boy, how old are you?" he asked, speaking in awkward Japanese.

The boy looked up. "Thirteen, sir." A small girl with long black hair and blue eyes was clinging to his hand, leaning weakly against him.

"Your name?"

"Himura Kenshin," he said. He rubbed his thumb over the young girl's knuckles. "This is Kamiya Kaoru."

The big man nodded. He turned to one of the girls, a slender child with sharp eyes. "And you?"

"Takani Megumi," she answered. "I am seven."

The big man went down the line, gathering names and ages. The little boy sleeping in Megumi's arms was Seta Soujiro. The toddler with the spiky brown hair was Sagara Sanosuke, age four. He turned to the last boy, a slim boy cradling a tiny bundle in his arms.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

The boy didn't look up. "Shinamori Aoshi, eleven," he said.

"What are you holding?"

Aoshi jerked away. "Her name is Misao," he said, laying his forehead against the baby's. "She's almost a year old."

The big man nodded. He turned to his assistant. "Take them to the orphanage," he said. "I'll inform several of my associates of the refugee children's states."

The woman nodded and beckoned to them. "Come on," she said. "Don't just stand there staring."

-----

Aoshi bounced Misao on his knee. Wide awake, she giggled happily and clapped her hands. "Poor little angel," he whispered. "You don't even know you're an orphan."

"She's too little to realize it," Kenshin said. "She'll never know her parents."

"Neither will he," Megumi said, stroking a lock of hair away from baby Soujiro's forehead. She rested her cheek on his head. "None of us will ever see our parents again."

A frightened little whimper escaped Kaoru's lips. Tears streaked down her face. "I won't see my mama again?" she asked. "Is she dead?"

Kenshin pulled her onto his lap. "Your mother's dead," he whispered. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed.

A iron hand with manicured nails pulled her away. "Don't do that, you naughty girl," the social worker admonished. "You need to look your very best. Your new parents are here."

"My new parents?" Kaoru repeated. The social worker took her by the elbow and dragged her from the room. "No! No!" she cried. "I don't want them!" Kaoru held out her hand. "Kenshin! Kenshin, don't let her take me away! Please!"

Kenshin rested his head in his hands as the weeping little girl disappeared from view.

"We're all going to be adopted," Megumi said. "We might as well face it."

Sanosuke grimaced. "I don't wanna," he said. "I wanna go home."

Aoshi looked out the window. "We can't," he said. "None of us have a home any longer."

-----

Misao fell on the floor and burst into tears. She held up her little arms to Aoshi. He scooped her up and nestled her on his lap. "What's wrong, angel?" he asked. He and Misao were the only refugees left. They were ostracized by the other children, and that was fine with them.

Misao continued to cry. Aoshi began singing to her. He had made up a little song for her, line by line, and it always calmed her down.

"_Listen, my angel, asleep in my arms_

_Know that you're resting here in here in my heart_

_Sparkle eyes, bright eyes, eyes of blue ice_

_Locked in my soul, in the depth of my spirit_

_Listen, my angel, I know you will hear it_

_When you lose my hand, I still will be there_

_Never far from me, always near me_

_Reach out and then you will see,_

_Listen, my angel, and never forget_."

The baby's eyelashes fluttered slightly as she settled into sleep. Aoshi almost smiled when an cold hand touched his shoulder.

"Give me the child," the social worker said. "Her new parents are here."

Aoshi snatched Misao away. "No!" he said. "I will take care of her. We stay together."

The social worker shook her head. "No," she said. "If you were her brother it would be different, but the child has new parents now."

"Then I want to see them," Aoshi insisted. "I want to make sure they will take care of her."

The social worker sighed and disappeared from the room. Aoshi kissed Misao's forehead. The social worker came back in.

"May I see them?" Aoshi asked.

The social worker said, "Yes," but it sounded like a 'no.' Aoshi followed the woman down the hallway into a small gray office.

A man and a woman were seated in front of a desk. The young man had dark brown hair and gentle green eyes. But it was the young woman whom Aoshi studied. Misao's new mother was a slender girl, with long silvery blonde hair and large blue-gray eyes. Her clothes were plain, but made of expensive fabric. She smiled as she saw Aoshi and Misao.

"Is that my baby?" she asked. The social worker nodded. The young girl reached for Misao. Aoshi pressed a final kiss to the sleeping baby's round cheek and laid her in the woman's arms. Her lips parted in happiness as she gazed at Misao. "Isn't she beautiful?" she sighed.

Aoshi looked away as the man and the woman smiled at the baby. A soft hand caressed his cheek. "You love the baby, yes?" the girl asked. He nodded. "I am Karena Martova," she said, still stroking his thin face. "I wish you might come with us." Karena stood and kissed the top of Aoshi's head. "I promise to take care of her," she said. "When the baby is grown, look for her. I promise she will not forget you."

The young couple left the office with Misao. Aoshi watched the steel door close behind them.

"Don't forget me, little angel," he whispered. "Please, don't forget me."

-

-

-

For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently at work on an original fantasy novel. If you are interested and would like to learn more, please send me a private message (PM) via this website.


	3. Asleep in My Arms

Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin belong to Shonen Jump, not me.

-

-

-

_Independence, Kentucky_

He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes in irritation. "Come on, Kia, come out," he murmured. The door of the farmhouse creaked open and a pixyish face peeked out.

"Sano!" she gasped. She ran into the yard and flung her arms around his neck. Kia kissed his tan cheek, tears trickling down her face. "Where have you been? You've been gone for ten years!"

He set his little sister on her feet. "It's a long story, Kia," he said.

A child's cry startled them. Kia pulled away. "That's Owen," she said. "He's probably wondering where I am."

"Owen?" Sano repeated. "Who's he?"

Kia turned around, her soft nutmeg hair swishing around her face. "That's right. You left long before he was born," she remembered. "Owen is our little brother."

The boy called for Kia again. Sano caught her arm. "Stay, Kia," he pleaded. "Let Mom get him."

Kia shook her head. "Sano, our mother died when Owen was born," she said. She disappeared into the house, Sano staring in disbelief after her.

_Westington, Massachusetts _

Her heart pounded as the man approached her. If her father was worse than they had suspected…

"I'm sorry, Miss Campbell," the white-coated doctor said. "Your father is dead."

She nodded in faked understanding and left the hospital. Kaoru unlocked her battered sedan and sank into the tattered front seat. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. "Oh, God," she moaned. "What can I do?" The girl stayed in her car, sobbing, for a long time.

_Dublin, Ireland_

He cleared his throat for the third time. "Excuse me," he said politely. The students kept chattering. He banged his fist on the desk, causing the clock to jump in shock and shatter to the floor. The students silenced. "Thank you," he said. "I'm going to be your history teacher this year." He slid his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose and scribbled on the chalkboard. "My name is Shaughnessy-"

"He's a Jap that talks like a mick," a voice in the back row said.

Kenshin turned to the student. "Would like to say that again?" he asked. He gave the pulverized clock a slight nudge with his foot. It shuddered a few weak ticks before dying. The student gulped and shook his head.

"Thank you," he said. "We're going to be focusing on the years between 1850 and 2050 to begin with…"

_Rakkin, Texas_

He crept into the cellar, trembling. Blood soaked through the tattered remnants of his clothes and dripped from his mouth when he tried to draw a breath.

"We'll find him eventually," he heard a voice say. "He couldn't have gone far."

Soujiro whimpered. Around his foster family he only smiled, but he wept when he was alone. He wrapped his skinny arms around himself, trying to draw warmth back to his frail body. Desperately he tried to draw the picture back to his mind. It was only a soft haze, but he could dimly conjure up the image of a very young girl cradling him in her arms. He didn't know who the girl was, or where he was, or if what he saw was a memory or only wishful thinking, but it comforted him as he slipped into the blackness of unconsciousness.

_New York City, New York_

She pulled up the collar of her coat as she wended her way through the crowded streets. Unlike the other young women, she didn't pause or even glance up to look at the fashions in the shop windows. Khan would know if she bought anything other than the clothes he provided for her. She was confident he had her followed everywhere she went and even if he didn't, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Meg!" a voice hissed. "Down here, Meg."

Megumi didn't even glance down. Her contact snuck the packet out of her hand as she took the money- all without even slowing down her quick pace. She was a practiced hand at this. But she was so ashamed of it all.

_Chicago, Illinois_

He refused to listen to his comrades' calls. "C'mon! It's too dangerous!" they shouted. "Get outta here while your hide's in one piece!" He raised the handgun and blasted away. Blood spurted from the victim. He gazed at the corpse coolly.

"Not my style, but you had it coming," he said. "Sorry about that."

Aoshi turned and walked away. The visions of his friends, fellow Red-dragons, lying dead in a pool of blood, was an ever-present companion. It was worth the pain and the nightmares to know that at least one of the murderers was dead.

_Seaside, California_

She blew experimentally into her flute, then settled down cross-legged on her bed and began to play. Her slim fingers danced along the keys, playing the tune that had been drilling in her skull for as long as she could remember. It was like the song that never ended, always singing through her head, and she didn't know a single word or even know where she'd heard it.

"Lights out, Missy!" her grandfather called.

Missy scowled at her childish name and set down the flute. "Just a minute, old man!" she yelled back.

"Don't 'just a minute' me, Missy!" her grandfather hollered. "Go to bed! You have school tomorrow!"

"So?" she called. Missy grinned as she heard Gramps mutter to himself and stomp down the stairs. She set down her flute, but the song still sang in her head.

-

-

-

For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently at work on an original fantasy novel. If you are interested and would like to learn more, please send me a private message (PM) via this website.


	4. Know That You're Resting Here

_Independence, Kentucky_

The crickets chirped as he made his way along the side of the narrow two-way road. Sano kicked at a rusty tin can. It made a loud clatter as it bumped across the rutted asphalt and slunk into the weeds. His mother was dead, and instead he had a little brother. So much had happened since he'd left, ten years ago. He'd been only nine years old. Nine. He was only a baby back then. But life in that two-bit town was stifling. He wanted out. Sano smiled, but there was no humor in it. He'd wanted to find his real parents. What a pipe dream. He could have stayed behind, with his sister and his adoptive parents. Kia practically worshiped the ground he walked on. At least she had when they were young. She probably hated him now. Sano took a swipe at a beer bottle lying in the ditch. As he stumbled along the two-way road, lost in thought, he didn't notice the ancient sedan careening around the curve. Before he could react, a big hand pushed him out of the way of the car. Sano jumped to his feet.

"Hey, thanks, man," he said. "Can't believe I almost got to be road kill."

His rescuer, a tall young man with orange hair, shrugged. "Happens to the best of us," he said. "Believe me."

Sano stuck out his hand. "I'm Sano Graeme," he said.

"Kazuma Kuwabara," the young man said, shaking his hand.

_Westington, Massachusetts_

Kaoru slid into her seat just as the final bell rang, her bag thumping to the floor by her feet.

"You almost didn't make it, Kari!" her friend Hadassah whispered as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Are you doing all right?"

Kaoru sighed. "I'm better," she said. Her father's funeral only the week before had really drained her strength. She and her father had no one else- just each other. He had never even married. It had taken a lot of convincing for Thomas Campbell to be allowed to adopt a two-year-old Japanese refugee. They had loved each other dearly- and now he was gone.

The teacher caught her attention. "We have a new student today," she said. A slim young woman with short brown hair and large dark eyes stood at the front of the class, her red plaid uniform skirt making her tiny waist look even smaller. "She just moved here all the way from Japan. Her name is…" the teacher squinted at the piece of paper. ",,,Kay. Miss Campbell, you'll be her guide until she gets used to this school."

More than a little confused, Karou nodded. The girl took her seat next to Kaoru and smiled at her.

"I'm Kaoru Campbell," Kaoru introduced herself. "Welcome to our school."

The girl beamed. "My name is Keiko Yukimura."

_Dublin, Ireland_

"Can anyone tell me what year the Meiji era of Japan began?" Kenshin asked. "Somebody? Anybody?" He hated to beg, but the entire class was staring at him blankly. He could see little confusion bubbles popping over their heads. But this was something important to him. He was proud that he was Japanese and could even still speak the language. The memories of the bombings were still crystal-clear in his mind. "Please, what year did the Meiji era begin?"

"It was the year 1867," a calm voice from the back said.

Kenshin smiled happily. "Yes!" Then he frowned. "What's your name again?"

"Shuuichi Minamino," the young man said. He had the appearance of a much younger boy, with long red hair and wide green eyes.

"Do I know you?" Kenshin asked.

"I don't think so," Shuuichi smiled. "At least not yet."

_Rakkin, Texas_

"Hey, Soujiro!" The voice was big and gruff.

Soujiro popped up at his foster father's side, a smile ready to split his face apart. "Right here, sir!" he chirped.

The man scowled. "Get that grin off your face right now!" he snarled. "What right have you to smile?"

What right indeed. If Soujiro cried every time something upset him, he'd have drowned long ago. He still didn't know why his parents hated him so much.

"We hired this'un to help with the harvest," Jude said, jerking a finger to the young man leaning against his motorcycle. "Show him the ropes."

"Yessir!" Soujiro piped. His left knee ached as he popped over to talk to the new hired hand, but he pushed the pain away. "Hi! I'm Soujiro Jude."

"Yusuke Yurimeshi," the young man said.

_New York City, New York_

"Hey, watch it!" Megumi glared at the slim young woman.

"I was watching it," she spat.

The young woman tossed back her light brown hair and snuffed out her cigarette. "Well, sor-ry." She didn't speak with a harsh Brooklyn accent. "You're Megumi Jones, aren't you?

"I go by Meg," Megumi said stiffly.

The young woman shrugged. "Megumi, Meg. It's all the same," she said. "You were one of those little refugee kids, right?"

"Why do you want to know?" Megumi asked, pain arcing through her temples at the memory. For years she'd tried to forgotten what really happened, and now this stranger was blurting out her past at random. "Did Khan send you?"

"Who's Khan?" the girl said. "My name's Shizuru Kuwabara."

_Chicago, Illinois_

"Hn."

It was only one quiet sound, but it was enough to startle Aoshi. He swore. "What the heck are you doing?" he hissed.

"Nothing much. Just watching." The speaker stepped out of the shadows.

Aoshi launched into a hysterical laugh. "A kid! It's a puny little kid!" he snorted.

The small dark-haired boy scowled and drew out a sword. "Would a child carry this?" he scoffed. "I'm no child. My name is Hiei Jaganshi."

_Seaside, Calafornia_

"Missy! Missy Martova!" the director called. "I found a pianist for you!"

Missy scowled and waved her sheet music in the air. "Can he play this song two keys higher?" she demanded.

A perky blue-haired girl grinned. "First of all, I'm a she, not a he," she said, her voice retaining the slightest hint of a British accent. "And second of all, I can transpose any song you want me to."

Missy's shoulders relaxed. "Oh. Well, then," she said. "I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Missy. Missy Martova. Pleased to meet you."

The girl laughed. "Oh, don't be so formal, dear," she said. "You can just call me Botan."

-

-

-

For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently at work on an original fantasy novel. If you are interested and would like to learn more, please send me a private message (PM) via this website.


End file.
